What You See
by kcgal
Summary: Duo is the joker, but there are four other boys who have come to realise there is much behind the mask he shows. What do they see when they look at Duo Maxwell?
1. Beautiful Day

"What are you doing?"  
  
"Standing. Enjoying a beautiful day."  
  
"It's raining."  
  
"…So?"  
  
  
  
He'd been standing out there for some time before I joined him. Just standing. No energetic movements or loud calls. And when I reached him he didn't even turn to look at me. No smirk, no idiotic joke or sarcastic comment. Just silence. And that is eerie coming from him. He is an enigma to me. Something to be in awe of, something so strange and foreign to me that I could never understand him. He is too unpredictable, too independent, too… alive. It has been said before - he claims to be the God of Death, but it is he among us that is the most alive.  
  
  
  
"Why does it need to be sunny to be a beautiful day? I never understood that about people. Rain is a beautiful and gratifying thing. Why not go out an enjoy it?"  
  
"You get wet."  
  
"You get wet in a shower."  
  
"It compromises your health."  
  
"How?"  
  
"The rain is cold and cools down your body temperature so that it is more susceptible to -"  
  
"You can have a cold shower without getting sick."  
  
  
  
He should be more like Trowa, or even me. The things that have happened to him are things that not just any child could live through and survive as he did. And he has not withdrawn into himself, placed a barrier between himself and the world in an effort not the expose himself to further hurt. Instead, he seems to open himself up to life, emitting a cry for the world to do it's worst because for him, life is worth living. It's easy to forget sometimes that we are only children, played as pawns in this war. Out of the five of us, I was the only one to receive any formal training for this. The only one without a choice. And yet they all chose to be here. He chose to be here. And for what? What will this gain him?  
  
  
  
"You believe that standing out in the rain is bad. Why? Because you were told so? Why do we need to follow a society's norm? To be sheep in a mindlessly wandering heard?"  
  
"It is a fact."  
  
"Is it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
  
  
I think a lot of people label him as stupid. I know I did. It's too easy to just slide him into that category because he smiles too much and jokes around. But then, most people never take the time to get to know him. I mean him and not the jester he uses as an easy front. People like the jester because he's simple and easy to get along with. But what's underneath is so much deeper and more meaningful then that front. When I first met him, I thought he was an idiot. He's proved me wrong too many times to count. Every once and a while he tosses out these pieces of genius. And I know they're not just flukes.  
  
  
  
"It's been proven."  
  
"By whom? And why do you believe them? We are not mindless lemmings."  
  
"Some things are meant to be accepted. They are there for a reason and there is no point going against them."  
  
  
  
I wish I had his faith in life, his energy and willingness to see the best of things. Wish I could be that cheerful and happy about a dark rainy day in September. And I know he tries, more then anyone else has ever bothered too. For this I am grateful, but I do not think that things so deeply embedded can be removed. But I hope he keeps trying, because maybe he can make a difference.  
  
  
  
"Oh? All right then. I suppose rain is always bad then. It never brings life to barren ground, it never alleviates the muggy humidity that hangs for days, it never refreshes a weary heart – never allows anyone to actually live for a moment in their life?"  
  
"We're not talking about rain anymore."  
  
"No, we're not, are we?"  
  
  
  
He walked off across the grass, water dripping off every part of his body. His thick, golden braid does not swing in it's usual manner, rather hanging heavily down on his back, dyed much darker by the water. His bangs are plastered down on his face, brushed carefully to either side of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed a light pink hue, and his skin fairly radiates the warmth that humans tend to give off when they are wet and cold. There is that sparkle in his eyes though, the one that says that despite this cold, miserable setting, it is a beautiful day and I shouldn't let it get away.  
  
~Owari~  
  
Wow. Obscure much? I dunno if anyone but myself will be able to see what the hell I was trying to write about, but I hope it was okay none the less. This came to me in the car, on a reasonably warm, sunny day. 'A Beautiful Day' by U2 came on the radio and this began to write itself in my head. It took half an hour to write and I haven't changed anything. It's a totally different way of writing then I've ever used, and it didn't come out exactly right (specially the ending) but I don't think it was too bad really. Feedback?  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own, no money, please don't sue?  
  
Oh, to any waiting on Shinigami – I'm writing! I am, I promise! Ch. 3 is half done. Kinda. 


	2. Sakura Drops

Do you know, back in the old days, before the colonies, they used to think that the stars held pictures, and that each picture told a story. 

Swish Swish

They used to think that the heroes would be hung in the sky by their gods, so that they would be forever watching over those on earth – gaining immortality for their deeds.

Clink Swish

The immortality of the stars was ment to make up for the brief lives they always led as a hazard of being a hero.

Swish

I wonder who decided.

Click Swish Thunk

Decided what?

Decided who was hung in the stars. Decided who was heroic? Do you think they will hang us up there?

Snort

Or is it Trieze and Une who get that immortality? Or Rick Viest, the comms manager for the Del Edwards base? Or Sandy Dell, the head of Leo squadron 4 on the Moon base?

Not everyone can be a hero Maxwell.

Why not? Why are those select few that make those pictures up there so much better then the others?

Some are destined to create a blaze in life – burning brightly, but extinguishing fast. They make a mark on those around them, and they are remembered for their honour, their courage, their loyalty. 

The Japanese have a tree which blooms beautiful pink flowers. These cherry blossoms bloom brilliantly for a few short weeks, radiant in presence, but are quickly swept away. They were very important for the Japanese, for they were seen to represent the fleeting beauty which filled many lives. However, there is another story that says the pretty blossoms used to be sparkling white, crisp and pure. But the ground in which the tree stood was stained with the blood of thousands, and that crimson seeped into the earth. The tree drained the blood of these men and the flowers became pink.

That is a horrible story. Things of beauty should not be corrupted with such lies.

Ahh. But which is the lie? A hero is borne in the blood of others. Through their victory over adversary'. History is written by the winners. 

Pause think thought

You think that we will not be remembered kindly if we loose this war.  
  
Perhaps. Maybe maybe it would be better if soldiers heroes, were not honored at all. Why give such prestige to those who have done naught but killed.

Denial refutation

You would rather those such as that Peacecraft girl be honored? 

Shrug

Not particularly, no. But she will be. Someone has already decided that her fate is amongst the stars, to be remembered.

Because she is instrumental to the peace effort.

Because people have fallen in love. Fallen in love as the end seems to loom, fallen in love with her innocence and ideals and the hope she embodies. A hasty fall. They can see the Sakura flowers falling and want to see the tree standing after the summer.

Then they shall watch us fall, and be forgotten until the new blossoms appear. We can't change what happens.

Que sera, sera, eh? Guess you're right man.

Sigh pause curiosity

Since when did you exercise your brain with such thoughts Maxwell?

Laugh warmth

I dunno buddy, I dunno. Maybe I'm cracking up. Who knows. Nice rambling to you though. We should do this again some time.  
  
Creak shuffle fading

Nice form by the way.

Silence swish click salute

You too Duo, you too.

_~Owari~_

_ Yes. it' attacks again. Guess who? -_- Hope someone could follow what I was ramblin' on about. Sakura Drops is an Utada Hikaru song. Sakuras are pretty. They're cherry blossoms if you don't already know hm. I think that's all. If you're confused who's speaking, track it from the start. An ending quote mark means the next speech is someone new. If there's no closing mark, then it continues to the next line.  
Disclaimer: Bah humbug. No mine. Pppft._


	3. Breathing

_I have no name_

There was a window in the wall, opposite the doorway to your room. If I sat on the ground, I could look up through it, and on clear nights, see the stars. The house, while comfortable and quite spacious, was not exactly what you'd call well designed. This window was in an odd situation to begin with, the only one on that wall, and straight opposite a doorway.

I suppose it could be used by one exiting the room, if the person was so inclined. Except for the fact the window was too far up to be of scenic value for anyone who did not reach an excess of six and a half foot. Something that none of us had managed as of yet.

But on nice nights, the stars can be seen. I had always liked looking at the stars, and was something I often did, both as a circus performer and a Gundam pilot. You told me once that you enjoyed watching them too, and that, now you had been to Earth, you thought the view on a crisp, clean night such as the one I now viewed was one of the most awe-inspiring things you've ever experienced.

_We have something we want to protect_

As soon as you'd found this common partiality held between us, you dragged me out into the night the first chance you got, gestured expansively to the heavens and said isn't it beautiful?'. That was all. Sometimes, actions are louder then words, and I think even you – who is so free with his words - have trouble trying to express these tricky things that go on inside our minds and hearts sometimes. It's a comfort to know there are some things that are beyond expression, comprehension.

_Never forfeit hope until the finale_

But since that first time we watched the stars together, I've enjoyed the nightscape all the more, knowing there was another out there who watched as I did, who was in awe of that unsaid and unknown which connected with me so deeply. And so now, the picture hung up in that window was very steadying, especially against the noises that sometimes came from within. 

I still wonder if I were really the only one listening to them, and could almost see Wufei sitting on the roof above your actual in-room window, masking his actions from even himself and denying concern. Quatre, I think, would have been too tired out from his diurnal mother-henning to be up for ay nocturnal window-watching such as I did and as I stipulated Wufei might.

_I admire your strength_

I know that Heero spent many a night within the actual room, and I can imagine him by the window too, looking out. I was always gone before he though, arriving after and carefully keeping our silences. 

In the light of morning, the noises didn't exist, the naïve façade is replaced and we all continue on like we're meant to. Little tin soldiers aren't meant to feel.

_With each battle I've killed my own heart_

So tomorrow, when you wake and leave behind his weakness, this portion of humanity, you'll be the immovable rock that you've always been. Provide the same determination, drive, and unique aspects of yourself that hold our group together like Heero's strength, Quatre's kindness and Wufei's faith. But I've always thought your brand of glue was the most important. 

In a group of estranged teenage boys who had no childhood, no future, we needed you to keep us from going mad. I don't know how long I've been looking for sanity, and I think it makes a perverse kind of sense that I may have found it here, during a war of millions inside a small group of five.

_I'm cold scared_

Five who could have been the best of friends, gone to school together, talked about girls and cars, trying to find money to go to college to work, live, love in a normal' way. Fate wasn't so kind however, and we are caught in something we can't stop, only try to endure. Maybe one day it might be over, and we will be looking back and laughing so that we can try to pretend a new future. That would be nice. I hope you'd all be beside me if when that day comes - because I don't think I could make it on my own.

_I am nameless again_

It's not good to dwell on such thoughts though. It's too early to say, and every day each of us hang in the balance. Which makes what you offer us so important. Every word, action, look, feeling that you somehow drag from us (despite ourselves) makes us stronger, makes us more worthy and hopefully more likely to live another day. Perhaps on that one day' we'll find a way to repay this debt.

But for now, I'll sit here, at my post outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing.

_We've got someplace to go home to._

_~Owari~_

Breathing is by Lifehouse fantastic song, you should download it. ^_^ I dunno. The end half came out awful odd. But I guess the whole series is like that. X_x  
Disclaimer: Again with the no, sadly, not mine.'


End file.
